


Finder's Keepers

by ombre_des_dieux



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Hope, Loss, Romance, Violence, demoralization
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ombre_des_dieux/pseuds/ombre_des_dieux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Event was too big to stop. They lost their Master and New York. Life disintegrated around them. Few reasons remain to fight. Even their leader has lost heart. But there is one left who might re-inspire them. Tori is tired. Tired of starving. Tired of waiting for things to get better. She wants to take back her life. But hopes of a new future rest on facing her past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Highway to Hell

Thousands died the day of the Event.

And in the days that followed, hundreds of thousands faded away. Most hadn't even heard of the arch-villain Shredder before, but history would never forget his name.

Months passed and he became the defacto leader of the city, then the country. His Foot soldiers overwhelming what little resistance remained as he darkened the skies over every major town with his diabolical scheme. An electromagnetic pulse knocked out all electronics. He destroyed most of the power plants, keeping a tight rein on the few remaining.

There was no publicly available electricity outside of small generators, no more communications, no more computers. Cars sat abandoned as the populace ran out of fuel. Only the rich sycophants of the usurper still accessed such resources.

New York City was slowly dying. Day by day, the vast metropolis collapsed on itself and the rest of the country rapidly followed suit. Food and clean water remained exorbitantly priced; many starved.

There were holdouts. Rebels who hadn't given up the fight though it seemed impossible to win. The defeated faces trickling by made Tori think there wasn't much of anything left to strive for. The vibrant city she fled three years ago was gone and it wasn't likely she would ever see it return.

She stared for a long time at the dark tunnel in front of her. Watching the comings and goings of its pedestrian traffic and sipping water surreptitiously from a stainless steel flask.

No one carried clear bottles anymore. Water was more precious than gold and flashing it about was a good way to get mugged.

A broken sign, hanging by a single bolt swayed in the breeze and smacked against the concrete. It used to read 'Lincoln Tunnel' but someone marked it out and spray painted a new name. 'Highway to Hell' covered the former presidential moniker in four-foot high orange letters.

Tori snorted.

_I'm already in hell. The city can hardly be any worse._

She pulled her cloak a little tighter around her slight form, lowered her head, and slipped into the flow of traffic. No one paid any attention for she appeared a part of the bedraggled crowd, even as she pushed in the opposite direction.

Her cloak, while frayed and full of patches, was actually quite whole and waterproof. Made of felted wool, it was warmer than most of the clothing of the people about her. Her ragged shirt and breeches were the same, artfully dirty yet surprisingly intact. Her boots, though scuffed, remained solid.

In seconds, she passed the point the sunlight could reach and plunged without hesitation into the darkness. Her eyes adjusted quickly and she avoided those who still clutched candles and cradled flashlights as they made their way through the long gloom.

_These people are fleeing. No use in questioning them._

Her eyes scanned the walls as she slipped further along. Halfway through the one and a half mile expanse, she spotted a familiar sigil etched on the tile wall. A rough rendition of the kanji for food.

Kanji replaced many English signs since the coup. Some businesses used them to show solidarity with the new regime while others sneakily rebelled in the usurpers own tongue.

_This symbol has several meanings. Food, yes, but also knowledge. Food for the mind._

She might make a rebel contact here.

Tori cautiously crossed the flow of departing humanity, seeking some sort of access near the drawing. After a few false starts, she found the release mechanism and a hidden door opened under her hand.

_Another sign of rebels. Most eating establishments aren’t so difficult to enter._

She gave the tunnel a searching glance. No one was paying attention. She slipped through and shut the passage behind her.

Inside, people huddled around splintered wooden tables and regarded her silently with dull eyes. Judging her clothes, testing the air for the merest hint of the trouble. Gradually the atmosphere relaxed as she was accepted as merely another refugee.

Tori plodded to the nearest empty seat, intentionally concealing her usual smooth gait, and sat. A woman with a pinched face brought out a plate of stew and bread but did not set it in front of her until she produced a few coins and passed them over. Another few coins got her a glass of sour beer.

Clean water was at a premium. She couldn't afford it here.

She kept her eyes down and ate her food, sipping her drink to prolong the visit; listening as the conversations renewed around her. The gossip was bad. Worse than the last few places she visited.

As his capital, Shredder ruled the city with an iron fist. Those who did not support him were dealt with in a swift and deadly manner. His Foot soldiers constantly patrolled the streets, terrorizing anyone and everyone as they pleased. Taking whatever they wanted.

That attitude trickled down to the citizens. Decades of progressive reform was thrown out the window. Women and children were treated as possessions, with few exceptions. Most used as free labor, lucky if they received room and board for their work.

Even among men, there were classes, with the strong often oppressing the weak.

Several times, Tori dissuaded the speculative glances of nearby customers by pulling back her cloak to reveal her dagger. Her narrowed eyes convinced the men she knew how to use it.

_Bastards need to learn to keep their thoughts to themselves._

She wasn't exactly pretty. Once, maybe, but now her fine dark hair was cropped into a jagged bob by nothing more than a knife. Her face bore scars along either cheek—marks of the last man who tried to possess her. Her once bright eyes had darkened from all she'd seen.

Still, she remained attractive enough to garner attention she did not want. Her delicate bone structure and pale skin, as well as her petite size, made her a tempting target.

Tori drew up the hood of her cloak and concentrated on clearing her plate. She would move on. No one here had even hinted at those she wished to find.

Just as she rose to leave, another woman claimed the seat beside her. Deliberately, the new arrival let her hand drop atop Tori's, pinning it to the table. Tori knew better than to react in any way that might show guilt or trepidation. Instead, she simply tilted her head ever so slightly toward the woman to indicate she was listening.

"You're good," the woman commented in a low voice as she waited for the silent waitress and her food. "Real good. I wouldn't have made you except Lars"—she nodded to the large bouncer seated next to the door—"said you came from the Jersey side. Not too many people headed into the city. At least, not anyone who isn't a tool of the Shredder. You lookin' to join up?"

_This woman is a recruiter._

And she was offering the opportunity Tori needed. A chance for contact with the rebels. But... it paid to be cautious, so she looked away and kept her voice to a whisper. "Depends," she said.

"Depends on what?"

Tori turned and caught her gaze, giving her a significant look. "On who's _leading_."

The emphasis did not go unnoticed and her answer was not the one the recruiter expected. Tori was sure the usual demand was something along the lines of food, water, or other supplies. Something this woman could promise. Instead, she drew back a little, startled.

"You don't want to meet them," she said with certainty.

Tori slumped, disappointed. From her tone, this woman only knew stories. She had no direct contact. Still, she pressed her, hoping for more information.

"And if I did?"

"You don't. Believe me, you don't. Those four are... the most dedicated, but also the most selective," the woman hesitated. "And the most violent. You're better off with the main group."

Tori raised a brow. "You must have a way to reach them. If you can't send messages you'd never be coordinated enough for attacks. I want a meeting. If you can't arrange it, point me to someone who can."

The woman rose to edge away. Uncomfortable with this twist in the conversation. Tori turned their hands, trapping the unwilling informant's on the tabletop.

At the door, Lars tensed and started in their direction with a glare, but the woman waved him away with a subtle hand gesture.

"We can't just ask them to meet random strangers," she protested in a low hiss.

Tori sighed and unbuttoned her left sleeve, rolling it up to expose her forearm. Carefully, she unwrapped just the lower portion of the bright blue strip of cloth covering her wrist.

Its purpose was twofold. One, she twisted the joint badly in a fight a few days ago, so it reinforced the sprain. Second, it covered a distinctive emblem tattooed just above her palm.

Actually, it had a third purpose. Its true purpose. But it wasn’t one she would share with this woman. Instead, she flashed the tattoo under the woman's nose.

The symbol was small, barely an inch across, and resembled nothing more than a bladed circle combined with a flower. Five smaller circles pierced the petals and one its center.

The recruiter abruptly sat down again.

"Continue to the interior,” she directed. “Take the 'A' train downtown from Port Authority at 9:40 PM. Ride it all the way to Brooklyn if you have to. Someone will contact you."

Tori nodded, re-wrapping the cloth over the damning mark.

"We haven't had a Hamato scout return from the countryside in a long while," the woman murmured. She frowned. "They'll be anxious for your information, but so are we. What's it like out there?"

Tori shrugged.

"Most people are avoiding the cities. Smaller settlements are being raised, nothing more than villages really. The Amish are already pretty well set. Other's are patterning after them.

"A few people have independent solar panels so there is a small series of underground electronic communications being built, but most of the populace has reverted to subsistence farming. Aside from that, not much I can tell you."

"Thank you," the woman said with a smile and patted her hand as Tori stood to leave. "Remember, the 'A' train," she repeated. Tori left, nodding to Lars on the way out.

Once outside, she disappeared, for she was trained in the art of invisibility by a master. The bouncer had only noted her direction on the way in because she wanted him too. In fact, she had to scrape her feet and retrace her steps twice to get his attention.

Now, she moved absolutely unseen. Ghosting along the passage, weaving among the disheartened crowds as they tried to find a better life.

_I wish I knew if mine is waiting ahead._


	2. Better Days

Port Authority, the bus and subway terminal of the west side, remained oddly vibrant and full of motion. In a way, it was a little disconcerting after the zombie-like walking of the patrons in the tunnel. The people here still had purpose, pursued jobs, and even possessed some hope.

_Perhaps because there's electricity. A small reminder of better days._

Lights overhead pushed back the gloom of early evening as Tori approached the building in search of an entrance to the subway. Carefully guarded lines powered the station, and the Foot were everywhere. Reminding everyone who was ultimately in charge.

Privately, she had been surprised the trains still ran, but apparently, mass transportation was encouraged. After all, Shredder's workforce had to have some way to traverse the city. Luckily, she did not stand out. Many here wore the same type of threadbare clothing, but she did duck into a restroom to wipe her face, for these people lacked the dingy look of their homeless tunnel counterparts.

A bathroom attendant handed her a towel soaking in a bucket of mild detergent when she entered and made sure she gave it back for disinfecting when she left. There was no running water here and this was the best they could do to prevent the spread of germs.

Back on the platform, the 'A' train arrived promptly and Tori chose a car in the middle of the span. One with functioning lights that wasn't _too_ crowded so her undercover contact might identify her. She sat down to wait.

An hour passed at a snail's pace as the local train made every stop. Each time a new person entered, she scrutinized them before dropping her eyes to her lap, but none approached her.

However, _someone_ was making her skin crawl. Several rows behind her, another passenger was staring a hole in the back of her head. A nonchalant glance as she shifted position revealed a problem.

The problem was a heavily muscled man in his forties. His face was dark with soot, he sported a silver beard, and greying dreadlocks. He obviously worked for the usurper. Probably in one of the few remaining power plants. He wore a cruel expression of entitlement. One she'd seen far too many times.

When the train started off once again, the problem stood and wove his way to her seat. For a while, he simply loomed over her in the aisle, watching for a reaction as he held on to the handrail above her head.

Tori ignored him, knowing if she flinched or shrank away, he would assume she was 'unclaimed' and make a move.

_If he does, I can take him._

The only time she'd ever lost was when she was so sick with hunger she had no energy left to fight. That man had marked her cheeks with his blade in punishment. Eventually, though, she recovered. She stuck a dagger in him as he slept and ran.

But fighting on the commuter line had consequences. The Foot on patrol in this area would love an excuse to engage and she would have to leave, missing her rebel connection.

_Getting another might be next to impossible if I have a reputation for disturbing the peace, even with the tattoo._

She couldn't risk it. Not when she was so close. Her only option was to play along, stay on the train as long as possible. When her rebel friend appeared, she could extract them and leave this idiot behind.

Tori sighed as trouble with a capital 'T' leaned in. The stink on his breath made her wish she dared hold her nose, but a fearful woman wouldn't. He eyed the scars on her face and the other passengers began to shift away, abandoning her to her fate.

He reached out—without her leave—and ran a calloused finger over the slash on her right cheek. She flushed and turned to stare up at him, steel flashing in her eyes. Under her cloak, she shifted her grip to the handle of the knife. She might not be ready to fight, but it raised her confidence.

"Oooo. I can see why he marked ya, kitten," the man said with a smirk. "You're all fire."

"He regretted it," Tori snapped. "For about twenty seconds, then he finished bleeding out."

The bastard laughed as he clamped a hand on her injured wrist and pulled her roughly into the aisle. She winced and whimpered in response. Her cloak fell back and he noticed the knife. Drawing it before she could protest, he waved it to the crowd. "This kitten's got claws."

The blade was a short, obsidian and lodged in a decorative handle of blackened ivory. Just long enough to reach a man's heart, it was designed to pass through all types of security—even metal detectors, though there were few of those left.

The thug had never seen its like or he would have dropped her, for it was an assassin's blade. It had been a gift. A warning and a sign of protection in one. It had never truly functioned as its giver intended, but it was sharp and she’d used it more than once.

Tori shrank back to distract him, her eyes wide. Tugging ineffectively at her wrist. Still laughing, the man carelessly let her dagger fall and threw his other arm around her waist, pulling her close. He sank his face into her raggedly chopped hair and inhaled.

"You smell wonderful, darlin'," he said into her ear as he groped her behind with his free hand. "I do believe you've had a bath this week. That's perfect. We'll get off at the next stop an' I can dirty you all up again."

Tori's mind raced as he planted sloppy kisses up and down her neck. She had to stay on the train. Her ploy had backfired if he was going to drag her off.

She struggled a little to keep him engaged as she thought, but not hard enough to break his grip. If she remembered correctly, there was a 'dead' space coming up. One where the lights of the car would flicker and go out for a few seconds.

She could use that. Incapacitate the man, escape to another car and hide among the populace.

_If I can pull it off, I might still salvage this meeting._

"You ain't so bad," the asshole said with a smirk. "You talk big, kitten, but you settled right down. I'm almost disappointed."

She tensed involuntarily at the insult. It was the wrong move for it telegraphed her intentions.

Before she could twist away, he yanked her hard against him and leaned in, biting at her neck aggressively. Tori cried out, not expecting the pain. The lighting flickered and went but she was too shocked to implement her plan.

"You're mine now, kitten. Yowl and hiss all ya want," he whispered in a harsh voice. "I don't mind. None a' these folks are gonna help."

When the power blinked back on, someone new stood in front of them. A bulky form concealed under a long cloak of mottled grey, green, and brown. Tori couldn't see much as the thug smashed her face into his shoulder, but she sensed the increased tension as the two locked eyes.

She was surprised someone else decided to get involved. Most people avoided conflict these days unless they were sure to win. Of course, this guy could be poaching in another's territory. That would make it a different kind of fight altogether.

Tori considered breaking away while her captor was distracted, but it was better for her reputation—and her mission—to see how this played out. She didn't want to expose her talents, or leave the train, too soon.

The newcomer shifted audibly. Cloth rustled as he pushed back his hood and the thug gasped in her ear. A sound echoed by the remaining patrons of the car.

"She's mine, freak," he shouted and his hand squeezed her backside possessively. "I saw her first."

Tori's frantic eyes flicked from passenger to passenger over his shoulder as they stared past her to the new arrival. They shrank back as far as they could into the corners and began to flee to the adjoining cars as the hostility in the air became lethal.

In moments, the three stood alone.

_Shit, who could it be? One of Shredder's hench mutants?_

That would be worse than the Foot. She'd been so careful coming in, but if they knew she was in the city, they would hunt her.

_Shit, Shit, Shit!_

She needed a new plan. It was two minutes to the next stop. If her attacker stalled long enough, she could break his hold and run soon as the doors opened.

_Damn the rebel for waiting so long. My only option now is retreat._

"Move away from her," a calm, authoritative voice commanded.

Tori froze as her body vibrated from head to toe. He only uttered five syllables, yet every rise and fall of tone caressed her skin. She flushed, hot then cold in an instant.

 _He_ was her contact? She hadn't expected one of _them_. She'd anticipated an intermediary. Someone she would have to argue her way past.

Never in her wildest dreams had she thought Leonardo would come to greet her.


	3. Finder's Keepers

"You know who I am," Leonardo said to the thug.

Tori was shocked.

_Did they come out to the general populace?_

She'd heard rumors, of course, but outside of certain factions, she didn't think people knew of their existence. Besides, this asshole most certainly worked for the enemy. It was extremely unlikely he would fold to the leader of the rebellion.

Unless Leonardo was playing on being a mutant. Humans knew Shredder maintained a group of monsters under his command. He might cave to a baddie higher on the pecking order.

"You know what I can do," Leo continued in a persuasive yet ominous tone. "She is one of mine and I have come to claim her. Let her go."

Tori's heart clenched.

_One of his? Have I been gone so very long?_

She blinked hard to fight back tears she couldn't afford. She'd known there was a reason he'd sent her away, but she trusted him. Had he betrayed her trust?

_No. He would have told me._

He was the most honorable being she knew. But... maybe he had. Cutting off all communication was a pretty loud declaration. Either way, the words hurt.

She shuddered and the muscled maniac tensed, evidently deciding not to acquiesce to Leonardo's demand.

_He must have a death wish._

Though he held her in an awkward position, she turned her head as far as she could. Straining her neck, but needing to see Leo's eyes. She wanted the truth. Tori stared over her shoulder and said nothing but his steely blue-grey gaze locked on her face.

"Victoria?"

Leonardo's stance instantly changed and the menace rolling off him escalated from merely threatening to imminent explosion. He crouched forward on the balls of his feet, his eyes narrowed, and his mouth twisted into a snarl of rage.

He raised a hand to the swords on his back. His cloak fell away revealing a range of deadly weapons on his belt and a dark kanji character on the inside of his bicep.

Tori gasped, all her attention focused on that mark. She blinked again, hard, as more tears stung her eyes. They had nothing to do with the way the thug had spun her and was pulling her elbows up behind her back and everything to do with Leo's tattoo.

_He still has it!_

No attempt had been made to remove the oath.

"Release her!" Leonardo snarled. "Do it now and I won't gut you where you stand."

Her attacker laughed, using her as a shield. A knife she hadn't even noticed pressed into her lower back. Leo hadn't missed it. His fists clenched and though one still rested on the hilt of his sword, he didn't draw.

"Why should I?" The evil bastard said, pausing to lick her neck grotesquely as he dragged her backward towards the doors of the subway. He grinned as the furious turtle growled and took a step after them.

Tori yelped as the knife dug in a little deeper and Leonardo froze.

"In this world, it's finder's keepers. An' I told ya, I saw her first."

"Not true," she whispered.

She ducked and twisted abruptly away from his grasp. He lunged after her, catching her shirt as she tried to roll. In the tussle, the fabric of her sleeve tore exposing her arm.

The man grabbed her bandaged wrist, yanking her upright and back to his side, jabbing his knife into her ribs hard. It wasn't a deep stab but blood—red as a rose—blossomed across her side, seeping through her clothes.

She glanced up at Leonardo in shock, breathing heavily to diffuse the pain.

There was no sanity left his eyes but his muscles remained locked in place as instinctively he understood it was more dangerous for her if he moved.

A smear of red on the inside of her newly exposed forearm drew the thug's attention to another dark emblem. A tattoo similar to the turtle's but more delicate in style, partially covered by the band of fabric wrapping her wrist.

His eyes widened as his gaze flicked from one design to the other. From her blue bandage to the color of his mask, sensing too late what it all implied. He began to sweat as he realized the turtle would grant him no quarter for his mistake.

_He will hunt you down no matter how far you run. That is, if you even make it off this train._

Nevertheless, the asshole tried to bluster his way past the fatal error.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he sneered, gesturing to the kanji with his chin.

Even though the symbols were seeing more use, it wasn't one of the most common phrases. When she didn't respond, he nudged her again with the knife.

"What does it mean?" he growled.

Gathering her remaining strength, Tori whirled away from the blade—straightening his arm since he still gripped her wrist.

"Beloved!" she cried.

It was answer and plea in one.

As if she had unleashed him, Leonardo responded. He sprang and swung his katana faster than the eye could follow, severing the man's hand. The thug shrieked as muscle and bone were sliced clean through.

Blood began to spurt as he collapsed against the doors. Coating the ground, Leo, and everything nearby in deep crimson. Tori fell back—shaking the dismembered appendage away. Unbalanced by the abrupt change in power, she lost her footing entirely, slipping in the hot, wet liquid.

Leo caught her as she went down. His powerful arm curled inward and he drew her protectively to his chest. She melted against him.

Despite the gore on his front, she clutched his plastron so tight her knuckles turned white. As she tucked her head under his chin and shuddered in reaction, he leveled a lethal glare at the man screaming on the floor.

His blade flew a second time, without hesitation. Slicing its way with precise aim across the doomed man's throat. The howling cut off and he slumped over, dead.

"I warned you," Leonardo snarled, "to get your hands off my wife."


	4. Oathbreaker

The train jolted to a halt at the next station and Tori sagged against Leonardo, feeling weak as the adrenaline keeping her going ran out. Leo smoothly pulled up his hood and scooped up her legs, cradling her tight. He dashed out as the doors slid open, sprinted to the end of the platform and leapt onto the tracks, disappearing into the darkness.

Two side branchings later, he stopped in an alcove to check on her. His chest was heaving, though it wasn't from exertion. Tori weighed practically nothing.

She lifted her face as he looked down. He nodded once, acknowledging she was still conscious.

Slowly his breathing eased. The rage drained away and intelligence returned to his steely gaze. His eyes softened as she shivered. He set her down, swung off his cloak and wrapped her in it. Much larger than her own, it felt like a blanket enveloping her small form. 

Kneeling next to her, he rubbed his hands over her arms, then dug in his sash seeking bandages for her neck and side. 

"You came back," he said as he worked a long strip of gauze around her waist, applying pressure to the slash in her side.

"You thought I wouldn't?" she asked.

He closed his eyes and pain swept over his features, but he answered truthfully. He was always honest with her.

"Yes. Why did you return?"

Tori's heart skipped a beat.

_He claimed me as his wife. Does he really not want me here?_

His voice said one thing, but his body another. She could see the emotion in the way his pulse pounded in his neck, feel it as his gentle fingers bandaged her.

"You commanded me to go, so I went," she explained hollowly. "You told me to stay away and I did. Because I swore an oath. To love, honor, and... obey."

"But you came back," he admonished her.

She sucked in a breath and gritted her teeth as he brushed back her hair and blotted the bite mark on her neck. She knew the bastard broke the skin. Before the bloodbath, she'd felt her own trickling down the front of her shirt.

"You swore one too," she said. "Do you remember?"

He frowned. "Of course."

"You asked me to wait for you"—her voice waivered—"I waited for _years_. You promised you'd call me back when the danger passed."

"Does this look safe to you?" he demanded.

He waved an arm angrily, referring to the train they'd just left, the dead man, and the huddled masses wrapped in miss-matched clothes trying to pretend the didn't see her under attack.

She shook off his cloak, leaned up, and cupped a hand to his cheek.

"I came back because I haven't heard from you in more than a year! Not a single word. The letters just stopped. I didn't even know if you lived! Or if you still...wanted a wife. I thought... maybe I had been replaced."

"Never!"

His harsh response made her jump, but his eyes were damp as he turned his head and buried his lips in her palm, sealing the vow with a soft kiss. He took her hand in his and tenderly tucked it back inside the protection of his cloak.

She knew he spoke the truth, but she couldn't stop herself from asking.

"Then why was I 'one' of yours on the train?"

"One of my scouts!" he protested.

"It didn't sound that way," she muttered.

"It was a strategy to get the man to back off. Many of the males here have reverted to almost caveman ideals. The more women they possess the more powerful they are. It was only an implication."

It was paranoid, but still, she probed him.

"Do you always respond to your scouts returning personally? Or just the females?"

"Victoria," he said, exasperated, "I simply received a message saying a female scout returned to the city with a description of your clothes. I don't have many women in my employ and none of them were expected to report back this month so I went to the meeting myself in case it was an emergency."

He raised her chin on a finger to meet his eyes. They were horribly conflicted. Joy at her presence bound up with horror at her injury. Fierce desire fought with the need to send her away, safe again. Under it all, however, burned truth and adoration.

"I’ve never wanted anyone but you, love. I've never betrayed you. I never will."

Tori shook her head, her eyelids drooping.

"But you did," she whispered.

* * *

 

Leonardo's eyes skimmed her in the dim lighting of the tunnel, trying to understand what she meant.

_Why does she feel that way?_

At one time, he knew every curve and silhouette of her body. Could identify her in a crowd from fifty feet away, no matter what she wore. Could read her mood from the tilt of her head. Now, she acted so vastly different he couldn't tell what she was thinking.

He almost hadn't recognized her on the train, even when he saw her face. But the electric shock of her eyes set his instincts aflame and pushed him into protective overdrive.

It was his worst nightmare come to life. He'd seen it too many times—men growing bold under Shredder's regime. Taking advantage of their power over women in public while no one helped the victim.

He couldn't bear to think of that happening to his beloved. It was the main reason he'd sent her from the city.

_Yet there she stood in the middle of the subway. Trapped in the arms of a despicable man. Crushed into his chest, being forcibly fondled._

Then the bastard pulled a knife on her. Rage—purifying and clear—had wiped his mind, coiled his muscles tight, and brought him to the edge of sanity. There had been only one thing to do.

_Free her by any means necessary._

He did not regret the man's death in the slightest, but Victoria looked like she was going into shock. Shaking, despite the extra layer of outerwear. He rubbed his palms over her biceps again, trying to heat them with friction.

The temperature in the tunnels hovered near freezing and even with his cloak she was not warming up fast enough. When she didn't show signs of immediate improvement he lifted her again.

"Come with me," he said. "There are better places to talk."

On closer examination, he wished he hadn't stopped for so long. Her lips were pale, her face pasty. Now in his right mind, he realized she weighed almost nothing in his arms.

Like those sickly humans on the surface, she had been eviscerated. With a fresh wound, shock, and emotional betrayal weighing on her—she was just a breath away from leaving him altogether.

_Our argument could have killed her._

His heart dropped into his stomach in horror and his pulse shifted into high gear. He ran. Harder and faster than he ever had before.

Victoria was almost unconscious by the time they reached the nearest safe house—a simple, underground room hidden in the sewer system. It held a small wood stove, a supply of food, and a futon piled with blankets and cushions .

He buried her in the soft bedding to preserve her warmth and built up a fire with frantic speed.

"Victoria," he murmured as he worked. "Stay with me. Talk to me."

"Victoria?" she repeated, somewhat bemused. "She's long gone."

Leonardo froze briefly at that but quickly resumed his task, not looking at her so she would keep speaking. The flames were soon lit and as the room warmed he turned to making something hot to feed her. Canned soup was all he had.

_It will have to do._

His earlier once over of her condition frightened him, but he didn't dare unwrap her for a closer examination until the place heated fully. He frowned at his hands. They were shaking and he twisted so his shell hid them from her view.

"What do you mean?" he asked to keep her present.

"Victoria was a pretty young girl, brimming with self-confidence. She found her heart's desire. And despite the world going to hell in a handbasket, believed her life would be ok. Because she had a husband who loved her. A ninja to be reckoned with. One with a brilliant, strategic mind who would always watch her back."

He shivered. Though the description sounded flattering, the harshness with which she voiced the words made them feel like blows.

The soup boiled and he poured some in a thick ceramic bowl, digging around for a spoon. All the while trying to decide why she would speak of them this way.

She barely found the strength to sit up when he brought her the food and she shook too much to use the utensil. He took it back from her gently and dipped it in the broth, blowing over the top to cool it before carefully spooning it between her lips. After several quiet bites he paused and glanced guiltily away, almost afraid to ask.

"What happened to her?"

He winced at his own choice of words.

Using the third person, as if 'Victoria' somehow passed away felt wrong, but it was easier to follow her lead than to protest. She reached for his chin and tilted his face back to hers.

"Leo, you sent her away and broke off all contact"—her voice faltered—"What did you think would happen? _Victoria_ died a little every single day, waiting for a summons that never came. Her world ended. She's gone. Only the ashes are left. Only Tori."

"No," he protested, but she shook her head.

"She spent all our hoarded cash. Harassed every courier who passed through the village for messages. Every waking moment she worked for spare change, a crust of bread. Eking out a meager living, not daring to leave and search for a better position in case you called for her return."

Her eyes became haunted and he couldn't look away.

"Hunger isn't restricted to the city, Leo. Or the boldness of men."

For a while, they stared at each other in silence. As he fed her the last of the soup, his mind raced over everything she said.

_I wasn't unfaithful, but I betrayed her just the same._

He should have sent for her the moment he realized the war was going to stretch long past his initial estimates. It didn't matter that he believed she was safer elsewhere, beyond the immediate reach of the Shredder. Or if he thought it kinder to let their communication lapse than to encourage her hopes with false words.

He was wrong. He abandoned her to the very perils he hoped to protect her from. Left her to face them alone. In effect, he forswore his oaths to guard and cherish her.

Overcome with remorse, he clenched his teeth and unwrapped the blankets to evaluate the rest of the damage. He peeled off both cloaks and let his eyes roam searchingly over her. It was hard to ignore all the blood but he would have to wait until she stabilized to bathe her.

She was rail thin, all muscle gone. No doubt because she was starving. Her skin flaked, her eyes were dull and dry. She was dangerously dehydrated.

He grimaced as guilt and anger burned through him. While the rebels weren't exactly eating well, none of them were hungry. They had stockpiles of canned foods and raided water from Shredder's supply lines regularly.

Her face was disfigured. Identical slashes crossed her cheeks. His heart clenched at what they implied. He raised a finger to trace one gingerly and his eyes darkened when she flinched away.

Victoria knew how to care for herself after an injury. To have formed those scars, she must have been prevented. Which meant whoever marked her did so on purpose, staking a claim. He'd seen similar scoring on the street. Usually covering the faces of souls so damaged they would never recover.

A furious growl rumbled its way from the back of his throat.

She reached up, removing his hand from her face and the blue bandage on her wrist caught his gaze. He recognized it instantly as one of his own masks. He hadn't realized she took it with her and guilt slammed into him again. She needed it, a reminder of him. The vow on her arm wasn't enough—for he had broken it.

The way she used it told him she had another recent injury, at best a sprain. He recalled the thug on the train deliberately twisted it and was suddenly fiercely glad the man was dead.

"Vic— Tori," he corrected himself, "Who hurt you?"

She laughed, low and guttural, but there was no joy in it.

"Leo, everyone hurts me."

 


	5. Vows and Honor

****Victoria shuddered fitfully in her sleep on the futon next to him, moaning quietly. Her eyes clenched tight against the soft flickering of the fire lighting the room. She looked ready to cry, but her body had no water left to spare.

Leonardo's breathing sped at the sound. He swallowed hard, wondering desperately what else he might do. He couldn't reach his family for advice. Not right now. Donatello was away, setting up a new hospital on one of the rebel undercover evacuation routes, while Raphael coordinated troop movements and Michelangelo oversaw communications.

He was on his own.

He cleaned her face and neck as best he could with a disinfecting wipe. Moistening her lips with a damp cloth, he squeezed a few drops of precious water into her parched mouth. Every few minutes, he stopped whatever he was doing and trickled a bit in, each time holding his breath until she swallowed.

_If I don't get her hydrated, she isn't going to survive the night, much less a trip to the nearest underground hospital._

While the room remained warm, he removed her gore covered clothes and sponged her off. She was remarkably clean under the blood, but he had to bite his cheek almost through to keep from weeping at what he saw. The signs of severe trauma and starvation were everywhere.

Rummaging around in a small trunk at the back of the room, he located a long tee and some knit sweatpants, along with a pair of panties. Everything was a little oversized but they were clean and warm.

_Bless Donnie's foresight about what to stock in these safe houses._

Knowing they were more likely to be used by their rebel companions, Don ordered clothing and other human supplies stored in each.

Tori whimpered in protest as he re-bandaged her wounds and dressed her. A sound so lost it almost broke him. He stroked her hair in an attempt at comfort, though she seemed unable to bear his touch when she was awake.

_Will she ever be able to forgive me?_

He wasn't sure. Before she succumbed to exhaustion, he pressed her for as much information as he could get, but she wouldn't grant him more about her personal experiences. That was bad.

From the scars on her body, she had to fight—tooth and claw—to survive.

The man who marked her cheeks was dead, that much she admitted. But, the shame on her face told him more occurred than a straightforward fight. The way she froze up under the thug's aggressive pawing on the train, the way her eyes flared wide and her face paled when she spoke of the events, were telling.

Leonardo had seen those symptoms before—in the faces of the many sexual abuse victims they encountered.

_I'll never forgive myself._

Victoria was raped. Forced to kill. Starved and suffering because of his mistaken judgement. He, who had sworn on his honor to protect her. He'd destroyed the love of his life. Stolen the one thing keeping her going. Hope.

He didn't know how to give it back.

His own eyes shed the tears she could not. This time, he let them fall.

Curling up around her blanket-wrapped form, he tried to shield her with his body. He feared she might pull away, but her nostrils flared taking in his scent. Her rough breathing eased. Gradually, her shivering quieted and she grasped his arm, holding it tight.

"Victoria," he whispered brokenly, stroking her hair. It was so short now, cut off—as she had been. "My dearest one. I'm so sorry." Gently, he traced a finger over her tattoo and their wedding day floated behind his eyes.

_Splinter officiated in front of the tiny Shinto shrine in the dojo—one of his last acts._

_Victoria was breathtakingly beautiful in her white shiromuku kimono. Her long, dark hair bound up and pinned in place with decorative sticks he carved for her himself. Silver charms of health and happiness dangled from the bracelet at her wrist._

_She walked slowly toward him, flushing with joy. Her eyes so bright as she recited her vows and reached for his hand._

It was an image he dreamed of often. The first thing on his mind each morning and the last thing he recalled each night. He'd grown complacent in that dream. Believed she was thriving far away from him.

The idyllic picture shattered, falling away as she shifted and moaned in his arms. It was a lie. All this time, she'd been hurting. Leo pressed her closer and kissed the top of her head, feeling absolutely helpless. Wishing, with all his heart, Splinter was still here to advise him.

"Father," he begged. "My Victoria is gone. What do I do?"

As if summoned by his plea, a memory surfaced. Another time when he'd been lost and asked his mentor for help. The night he decided to marry her.

_"I shouldn't do this."_

_Splinter's dark eyes surveyed him across the table with quiet calm. Staring into his soul. Weighing. Measuring._

_"Why?"_

_"I'm putting her in danger. If our enemies ever find out... Her life will be over."_

_"Is that truly the reason? Or is it perhaps something closer to your heart? You cannot run from love forever, my son."_

_Leo clenched his teeth and shook his head._

_"It's too strong. If anything happened to her, I'd be undone."_

_"Leonardo, love can double as a weapon. Leave deep wounds. But it can also heal them. Trust your heart. Set it free..."_

More tears fell, dampening his mask. Victoria may be gone, but Tori was still here. And there _was_ something he could do about his broken oaths. Offer them anew and pray she accepted.

He took her hand, entwining their fingers, and repeated his wedding vows with the same fervor that drove him to the altar.

 _"You are my light here in the dim,_   
_my solace in the most confounding sin._   
_I'll be your guardian and your guide._ _  
_ Always at your side.

 _You stole my heart and gave me hope._   
_Trust my love, follow it back home._   
_Take my hand and be my bride,_ _  
_ Stay here at my side."

The words were seared in his soul. He would never shirk this oath again.

 _"Ignore the storm. Never you fear._ _  
_ _For I will always be right here._

 _You are my faith. You are my strength._   
_Forever more shall it be._   
_I'll be your lover and your mate,_ _  
_ So you will always be free.

 _If evil comes into our life,_   
_we'll cast it off me and thee._ _  
_ Beloved, shelter in me. "

Tori relaxed completely in his arms and she smiled, though her eyes remained closed. Nuzzling her face softly against him, she murmured something low.

Leonardo froze for split second, stunned, then sobbed freely into her hair, clutching her tight. A great pressure lifted from his chest.

She had whispered, "I do."


End file.
